It was not exactly because she thought such events useless that she so rarely attended them these days. Rather, with the end of her betrothal, there had simply been less invitations, and it so coincided with her taking up rulership that she simply had more responsibilities to prioritise.
Marriage and rulership were a queer pair. As a wife, these occasions were important. A kind of diplomacy. Different to the pretend young ladies played, these events became a way for a wife to strengthen her husband’s image and relationships.
It was important that others could perceive a ruler’s power. How a wife hosted, then, necessarily reflected on her husband. A man with a well-organised, prestigious home naturally made a good ally in any and all endeavours. This feeling, while intangible, became tangible through the weight given to it.
However, it meant little to her—or rather, as a woman who ruled in her own right, this naturally followed a different set of rules entirely. She could not truly be an ally when, at any moment, she would marry and thus defer to her husband in such affairs. Of course, that was not to say that the other even respected her as a ruler in the first place. Regardless of her abilities, real or perceived, there would always be those who thought her as lesser. Not just the men, but even fellow women.
After all, it was not the men who, upon every meeting, inquired when she would marry, worried that she may not have enough time to have enough children if she did not start soon.
Nor was it a man who now said to her: “I hear that Lady Augstadt recently opened a brothel.”
The speaker was Luzei von Babenberg, a cousin of Count Styria. A curious House which held a title for lands it had long lost to the Austrians back when the borders weren’t so settled. Regardless, they did still own much land, albeit now in Bavaria, and which the Count left to his vassals to oversee as it was mostly simple farmland. In turn, most of those vassals were close relatives.
“I am afraid that matters of hiring are left to the manager,” Julia said, her smile polite, punctuating the sentence with a sip of tea.
For a moment, silence, then Luzei’s own polite expression crumpled. Her grip tightened on her teacup, a wrinkle between her brows as her eyes narrowed. “How very dare you!” She practically spat out the words, not shouting, yet spoken under her breath with enough force to fill the room.
“I considered why you would wish to discuss the matter, that is all.” Again, Julia followed her calm words with a sip of tea; a disgust touched her eyes. “It is cold.”
A maid hurried over in short, quick steps, careful not to appear to be rushing. So a fresh cup was filled and she took the old cup away. Julia lifted this new cup, only to place it back down after a moment’s inspection.
Luzei, while silent through that, did not stay so. “Will you not apologise?”
Julia let out a breath, then, ever so unhurried, turned to look at Luzei directly. “I shan’t. Protest as much as you so desire, all present know who spoke with ill-will between us. That aside, it is no surprise that you are so offended,” she said, ending on a knowing smile that lingered before being obscured by her cup.
Although the others looked on, none dared speak up—if only because such entertainment rarely showed itself at these gatherings. Perhaps, in other situations, the host would have stepped in, but Count Styria himself had been known to talk himself into trouble, so it only seemed fair for him to experience dealing with this trouble at least once.
As for Luzei, she certainly couldn’t accept whatever it was that Julia implied. “Pray tell why it is no surprise,” she said, her voice quiet and expression stiff.
“Truly? Then I shall,” Julia said, pausing there for another sip of tea. “You think rather poorly of those who would work at a brothel.”
Seconds passed as Luzei waited for Julia to continue, only for no more to come. “Is that all? Of course I do—who does not?” she said, her restrained anger now mingling with a mild absurdity.
“Of course no good Christian should think poorly of her sisters. Moreover, I find it curious how you would think poorly of the workers and not those they… work for,” Julia said, tilting her head as she did. “After all, how may one sell apples if there is no one to purchase them?”
Despite a nervousness that came up as the anger faded, Luzei held Julia’s gaze, her tone more measured in her reply. “Should I not think poorly of those who entice others to sin?”
“Even Saint Augustine thinks Adam as culpable as Eve,” Julia replied lightly, the humour fading back to neutral when she continued. “Nor did Jesus turn away the sinner when she washed His feet. If not His example is to be followed, I cannot think how we may consider ourselves Christians.”
With Julia’s calm, unhurried answer, Luzei found time to settle herself more. However, that also left her keenly aware that this was a conversation with an audience. “There is allowing sinners to repent, and there is condoning their sins,” she said, comfortable with this criticism.
“Really? Do tell the King, then, for he must have forgotten all these years, as did his forefathers, to outlaw this work. On the other hand, if the Church has issue with it, someone should tell the Bishop of Augsburg as I have worked closely with him on this.”
A clap drew the attention away from those two, the host cutting in. “Truly? I am curious how My Lady would have the good bishop’s approval,” she said.
With Luzei in no great rush to speak up, Julia took a leisurely sip of tea, then answered. “It is nothing of much importance. Both King and Church agree it is a kind of necessary sin, that those men who use such services, if kept from them, would stir up much trouble and such troublemakers would fall upon innocent women.”
The host nodded along, eyes drawn together in concern. “Oh, that would be terrible,” she said, softer.
Julia offered a gentle smile. “However, that is only a third of the discussion. We may see something as both necessary and disagreeable. In that regard, I found it prudent to become involved that, this way, we may ensure that these women are not coerced into this work and that, if they should wish to repent, the Church is ready to assist them. It then follows that, rather than left to roam the streets and tempt honest men into sin”—her gaze noticeably settled on Luzei for a moment—“they should have a place where they may provide their services in private.”
It was calmly delivered and, once more, followed by a sip of tea. The host was not quite satisfied, though. “Are we to believe this is now only two-thirds of the discussion?” she asked, a touch of humour to her voice.
Along with a slight roll of her other hand, Julia inclined her head. “Indeed. The last third, then, is quite simple. These workers and those who use their services are often victims of crime as the brothels are beyond the city’s walls. Whatever their sins, they are still our sisters and brothers in faith, and they are still my subjects. Not to mention, there are sometimes those without such sin who, by poor fortune, happen to pass by at the wrong time.”This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
“So My Lady would bring them inside the walls?” the host asked, her tone hesitant.
“One can barely rely on the watchmen to patrol as it is,” Julia said lightly. “I jest, but it is not a simple decision, simply the best one at this time. There are already plans being drawn up for a more suitable location and I have politely asked the mayor to do something about the night watch.”
Although subtle, the host showed a certain look of relief. “Is that so?”
Julia smiled and took another sip of tea, saying no more.
The conversation quickly moved on, a brisk pace common when so many had to get a word in and each word led further away from the original topic; it never settled on Julia again quite so heavily. She was questioned on other topics and she answered and, where it suited her, she stepped in to give a word or two, but, among those present, all knew that her presence was an indulgence for the host.
Once the afternoon tea reached its end, that became particularly clear as she alone remained behind while the others all left. After seeing them off, the host returned, a greater warmth to her smile.
“Oh Julia, it has been too long.”
With a breath of laughter which coloured her lips, she rose, her hands open. “It has, yet I cannot think of when sooner I could have visited.”
Her host Dorothy took her turn to laugh and, in a stride, closed the gap between them to bring her guest into a gentle embrace. “Poor thing, you truly have been busy.”
It lasted but a moment and then they separated, each finding a seat close by, another moment to settle in before Julia replied. “I dare not waste a day. Many people rely on my rulership, after all.”
Dorothy’s smile wavered before settling into something almost strained. “Such as prostitutes?” she asked.
Although Julia did not laugh, a humour touched her lips, humour which did not reach her eyes. “Have you ever spoken with one?”
“Of course not,” Dorothy replied, her tone matter-of-fact.
Julia gave a single note of laughter. “Nor have I; however, this issue came to my attention and so I sought to resolve it, which included having someone look into the workers.”
Silence followed, stretching, and she made no move to break it that, eventually, Dorothy had to ask, “What did they say?”
The answer did not come quickly, Julia lingering in silence a little longer still while she stared at nothing. “My personal maid confessed to me that, after her parents had passed, she considered this work if she could not soon find a husband. There simply aren’t many opportunities for unwed women. Some had been orphaned, some fled a tragedy. One said she had a crippled hand and so no one would consider employing her. Another was born with an unpleasant mark on her face; she had still been courted by a few men, she said, but their mothers chased her away, worried her children would bear the same mark.”
“I can understand their concern, yet that makes it no less awful for her,” Dorothy whispered.
Julia’s gaze remained distant as her smile grew wider for a moment and then faded. “Of course, I am a Christian, so I wish to help these women. However, even if I did, the manager made clear that there was no shortage of women ready to take their place,” she said, her voice soft.
“My Julia is very capable, so I have no doubt she will resolve this,” Dorothy said. It was not necessarily a statement spoken with confidence, but with a gentle optimism.
To which Julia gave a dry laugh. “I hope so,” she whispered, then lifted her head up and continued speaking with her usual voice. “Still….”
Dorothy again waited until it became clear Julia was the one waiting, so she asked, “Still?”
“I know you are curious of what the bishop and I spoke of.”
It was not an accusation, her tone almost secretive, teasing, and the look in her eyes echoed that as she found Dorothy’s gaze. For her part, Dorothy gave no pretence otherwise. “Not that I would pry, of course,” she said, a finger held just in front of her lips.
“I do not mind speaking of it, knowing you understand nuance.” Julia paused there a moment. “This is not a simple matter as I often correspond with the bishop on many matters, some which intertwine with each other. In particular, I should say, we had a recent discussion on the… hypocrisy of how we treat Jews.”
It was subtle, yet Julia caught the flicker of emotion, Dorothy not overly guarded in this company. “Is that so?”
Julia raised her hand, palm out. “It is so. We understand that it is a sin to lend with interest, so, for centuries, rulers invited Jews to do it and collect a tax on the profits. I ask you, not to answer to me, but to God whether or not this is just. My heart knows. That is a discussion I had with the bishop, which then overlapped with this. Why is it that we can be hypocrites for greed and not for compassion?”
It was not a simple topic, especially considering one side had come prepared and the other not. Despite that, Dorothy was not slow, her gentle nodding along ending in a thoughtful frown. “That is your side, what of the bishop’s?”
A titter fell from Julia’s lips. “Still so sharp, how I miss our conversations,” she said.
“How I missed your answer,” Dorothy replied, her smile rueful.
Julia gave no mind with a few rolls of her wrist. “I would not wish to misrepresent the bishop, so I hope you will forgive me not going into such detail. The gist is that he does agree we should not put obstacles in the way of helping people. However, he wisely cautions that we cannot redeem others. We can only offer a path to salvation that they may choose to walk.”
Again, Dorothy nodded along. However, her interest in the topic waned, now assured her guest hadn’t fallen into queer thoughts, and she made as much clear. “Of course, I am sure you are curious why I insisted on your attendance today.”
Julia let out a breathless laugh, her lips quirked in a smile, eyes narrowed with amusement. “Of course, it is because I am delightful and you wished to be delighted.”
Although Julia’s confidence was well-known to Dorothy, such a bold declaration still toppled her composure, breaking into a momentary titter that she quickly waved away. “Of course. It is my delight, then, to hear from your mouth of your betrothal.”
There was no change in Julia’s expression, yet the air around her did. Docile, her words softer, proud gaze settled a little below Dorothy’s eyes—the sort of thing Dorothy easily noticed.
“You know best… how desperately I hoped for Prince Hector to… come to his senses. Now that it is clear I am one the who needed to do so, I did so.”
Dorothy’s smile weakened, a sympathetic tilt to her head, and she said, “That is what so worries me. You are in the rare position of us ladies who may have some agency over her husband, yet….”
“What agency do I have? Who would marry this thorn in the Prince’s side?” Julia whispered, careful that her voice went no further than her host. “I had prepared to live out what life I have left alone. Truth be told, I thought it a trial from God. That my mother died giving me life and my father passed so young. That on the cusp of joining a family, I became worse than strangers to those I had long thought of as my family. How I now take my meals alone, surrounded by the echoes of those long gone, left with memories that pain me to cherish. Even if I did marry, I fear God will take him as He took everyone else precious to me….”
Dorothy listened, patient, but took that pause to speak up. “The abruptness of this is all the more worrying for that. I wish for you to be happy, to know the same joys I do; however, of Prince Friedrich, I cannot say I know him well and I fear neither do you.”
The reaction Julia gave was simply to softly smile, her gaze again growing distant. “That is, I told him the same thing I told you, and he laughed at me. He called me a silly girl for believing such superstitions and insisted that he was far too stubborn to prove such a superstition right. It was… endearing. I felt young again, as if listening to my father reassure me he would return by morning, and even though I now know how empty an adult’s promise is, I couldn’t help but be moved by Fritz’s words.”
She spoke with such a wistfulness, childish—and all the more so when her face then paled and she covered her mouth.
“That is, Prince Friedrich’s words,” she mumbled.
The knot in Dorothy’s chest was not easily undone, yet, watching that little bit, it certainly loosened.
After a moment, before Dorothy had prepared anything else to say, Julia frowned. “How is it that Lady Bavaria knows of my betrothal before even I do?”
Dorothy chuckled, her head gently shaking. “Oh Julia, when a suitor would ride boldly through the front gate, there is little chance of hiding the courtship,” she said.
With her gaze to the side, lowered, eyelashes fluttering, Julia whispered, “I told him as much.”
For a moment longer, Dorothy simply watched, then she elegantly rose to her feet. “Albert has spoken much with Lord Styria these years, who has certainly sung Prince Friedrich’s praises. However….”
“It is not always a compliment to have such praises sung by him,” Julia said lightly, and she stood up too.
“Let us speak more of this after dinner. For now, let us interrupt the children,” Dorothy said, a wickedness to her smile.
Julia only chuckled in reply, her hand gesturing for Dorothy to lead the way.
So Dorothy did and, as they left the room, she said, “I must thank you. If not for your letters, I fear my children would be far too busy playing soldier to learn. Even little Julia will take up arms with whatever is at hand.”
With a small smile, Julia replied, “It is a good thing to be proud of one’s father.”